Golden Opportunity
by Frapper
Summary: A great portion of the Serrrano Indians land has been destroyed by a wild fire. Diego suspects Luis Ramón is involved and Zorro has to find out the alcalde's hidden agenda, even if he is not feeling his best. (This story was my new attempt for the Zorro Book Project)
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: this story is based on the NWZ series. It is a non-profit project intent for entertainment purposes only. All copyrights on the characters belong to Zorro Productions Inc. except the new originals created by me, i.e _Eagle Eye_.  
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**Intro**

The alcalde's office door slammed with a loud bang behind Luis Ramón as he rushed out in a foul mood. A heat wave of extremely hot air welcomed him on the street, an annoyance that only served to increase his irritation.

"MENDOZAAAAAA!" he called, while tugging at his collar. The heat reminded him once again how much he hated that forsaken roasting hole of a place el Pueblo de Los Angeles was. The alcalde walked briskly across the street, covering the short distance to the tavern as if he feared the blistering hot ground would burn a hole in his soles.

Zorro had been hiding between the rafters in the ceiling, waiting for a chance to sneak into the office undetected. Due to the black Zorro outfit, in this heat he was dripping with sweat. His mask was soaking wet, and little drops trickled down from his chin. The alcalde, busy as he was with his precious papers and malicious scheming, hadn't noticed the tiny puddle already forming close to his desk.

Staying for a while in that confined space, so close to the roasting roof, Zorro felt like a turkey in the oven. What he wouldn't give for a nice cold glass of lemonade. He fervently wished Diego could be wasting the afternoon at the tavern, maybe helping Victoria while feeling ashamed of himself for his last episode of clumsiness; or he could be at home enjoying a well-deserved siesta, away from the blazing sun. Anything rather than being there, boiling under the hot roof.

When the alcalde charged outside, Zorro moved in quickly, carefully climbing down from the rafters. Hanging briefly from his hands, he let out a groan before letting himself down on the floor with a soft thud. This time, supporting just his own body weight was too much for his badly injured shoulder.

"Sí, mi alcalde" squeaked a nervous hesitant voice in the plaza. Sergeant Mendoza had left the tavern in a rush to meet the angry alcalde outside. He had left behind a plate of delicious tamales, which lay untouched on the table.

The alcalde furiously pointed his index finger at the soldier, baring his teeth through a menacing grimace. "My office. Now!" he shouted, marching back across the street, followed by the bewildered soldier.

_"Madre de Dios! What does he want now? What did I do?"_ thought Mendoza, lagging behind, blinking under the glaring sun. _"Oh, no… No! My tamales… They'll get cold!"_

Zorro dashed around looking for two items, the proof he needed. Frantic, he ruffled the papers on the desk, carelessly dropping some on the floor. When he had found the document he was looking for, he turned his attention to the safe box. Luckily for him, the thick iron safe was already open with the door ajar, as Ramón had not bothered to close it when he walked out in a hurry. The safe contained a small chest. Zorro searched the room for the silver key to open it, but before he could find it he heard stomping footsteps approaching, so he gave up the search. Quickly, without much thinking, he grabbed the small chest and ran to hide beside the door. The wooden and silver chest, heavily decorated and expensive looking, was heavy enough on his left hand to send painful signals to his shoulder. Determined, he held on to it as best he could, because he needed the right hand free to fight.

"Zorro! He was here!" cried the alcalde, stopping in his tracks when he saw the mess of papers on the floor. "_How can that snake break into my office in such short space of time? I've been out just for a minute, for goodness' sake!"_

Before the alcalde could start searching for the black masked ghost, Zorro kicked him hard in his rear end, and sent him flying across the room. Ramón landed on his chest among the stranded papers, sliding over them. Annoyed and frustrated, he growled like a wild animal, pawing at a sheet of paper that was covering his face. Meanwhile, Zorro slammed the door shut, hitting Mendoza's face when he was about to step into the office just a few seconds behind the alcalde. With the blow, the Sergeant bounced back to the street, where he landed on his butt.

"Lancers! _Vengan,_ _rápido_! Zorro is here!" shouted the sergeant, dazed, carefully feeling his painful bleeding nose with his right hand. With a broken nose, he figured he was _seriously_ injured this time. What a fantastic excuse to remain on the ground! "_Shame the soil is so hot my rear end will get fried like a crispy tortilla." _That food analogy reminded him of his tamales and, in his misery, he moaned even louder.

While Zorro latched the door, the alcalde crawled on his knees to his desk and rummaged through the upper drawer, looking for his pistol. "_I've got you now,_" he thought while turning to face Zorro with a broad grin, only to feel a stinging whiplash which took away the pistol from his hand. He looked at his bruised wrist, disbelieving, upset because once again he had missed a good chance to trap his nemesis. Hesitating for a second, he decided to get his sword.

"Alcalde, I really don't have the time for this today" Zorro shouted, advancing when he saw Ramón reaching for his sword. Zorro punched the alcalde's jaw quite hard, knocking him half-conscious on the desk. Right then, the first soldiers arrived from the plaza, banging on the front door. It would not take long before some others would try the back door, which was unlocked. Zorro jumped on the desk beside the alcalde, kicked him down to the floor, and quickly wrapped the whip around the small chest. With a great effort, he pulled himself up onto the rafters to exit through the ceiling. Any other day, he could have hoisted the chest in a second, pulling from the whip, but today, it felt as if it weighted a ton. He lifted himself and the chest up onto the hot roof just in time, when the soldiers came charging through the back door.

Regaining consciousness, Ramón roared: "Get him!" He staggered toward the front door while palpating the left side of his face, cursing Zorro and his smashing right hook. He unlocked the door and waddled out, tripping on the unfortunate Mendoza, and they tumbled to the ground in a tangled mess of arms and legs.

"Get out of my way, you dimwit!" shouted the alcalde, waving and kicking to set himself free. He accidentally hit Mendoza's nose and the soldier yelled in pain, only to receive a snappy: "Mendoza! Don't be such a baby! Mooooooove!"

Zorro ran over the scorching roof tiles whistling for Toronado. The horse came at once, willing to take his master home so they could rest in the comfort of the dark cave, away from the sun. Toronado ran parallel to the houses so Zorro could jump onto the saddle without stopping, and they headed to the pueblo's entrance. However, before they could get so far, the soldiers blocked their way, pointing their muskets at them. Annoyed at their unusual efficiency in that torrid roasting day, Zorro pulled from the reins in his right hand and turned his stallion back to the plaza. The lancers fired their muskets, but missed the fast moving target as they had done so many times before.

"Give me that!" shouted Ramón, back on his feet, grabbing a musket from the nearest soldier. When he aimed at Zorro, he recalled the advice he'd been given: "_Shoot the horse. It's a much bigger target." _So, he carefully aimed at Toronado's chest instead of his rider's. He fired the musket and to his surprise, as this had never happened before, the horse bolted and fell to the ground neighing in pain. As a result, Zorro was thrown off the saddle.

Another loud scream pierced the air right after that, coming from the tavern door. It was Victoria, horrified to see her masked hero shot down to the ground.

Zorro found himself on his back, empty handed. The wooden chest lay out of reach, and the soldiers were closing in from every direction. With his left shoulder suffering at the slightest movement now after hitting the ground so badly, Zorro reached for his sword, wondering how he had managed to get into this predicament at all, and how to get out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A month ago**

Don Alfonso, a wealthy landowner from Mexico who had recently settled in Alta California, looked at the piece of yellow metal glittering on his hand. A broad smile expanded on his greedy podgy face while he looked down to the valley, his gaze following the course of the small river.

"Does this land belong to the Indians?" he asked to his companion, Oliver, a quiet man with mild manners that veiled an aggressive and vicious disposition, especially towards Indians.

"In a way, you can say so. The San Gabriel mission has the land grant for this territory."

"I need to get hold of the rights for this land. However, I don't think they'll sell it to me willingly." He looked around again, ignoring the beauty of the wild landscape, wondering what valid excuse he could put forward to feign interest in such an isolated place. "We need someone corrupt, someone so dishonest and unscrupulous he won't mind bending the rules a bit in our favour."

"I know the perfect man," said Oliver quietly, while mounting back on his horse to come down to the valley.

ZZZ

"Diegooooo! Where are you? We have work to do!" called Don Alejandro, looking for his son. _"Where can he be? The library, sure."_

Diego walked quickly through the secret door by the fireplace; randomly took a book from the shelf; and sat down in one of the armchairs. He was sweating and breathing heavily with the haste of his alter-ego activities, but he hoped his father would not notice it. He didn't.

"Ah, there you are. What a surprise. The library."

"Hello, father. Are you looking for me?" Diego asked casually, closing the book. He put it down on the side table carefully. Only then he realized of the title: _"__The New Horse Hoeing Husbandry"_ by Jethro Tull, a new edition of his classic treatise. A book he hadn't had the chance to read yet, although his father insisted it was essential knowledge of modern agriculture.

"Yes. We need to help Padre Benítez with the planning and building of the new orphanage and school. Don't you remember? I donated a large contribution for that project, and I would like to check that everything runs smoothly" said Don Alejandro.

"Sorry, father, I forgot it was today. I thought we were doing that tomorrow."

"No, son. _Today_. Sometimes I wonder if you'd forget to breathe if you had to do a conscious effort to keep yourself alive. How can you get so distracted with your books?" asked the old don, laying eyes on the book on the table. "Are you finally getting an interest in agriculture and farming, Diego?"

"Yes, father, I am. _Everything_ is on the books, you know. A very interesting subject it is, Agronomy. Quite compelling to read," said Diego, standing up enthusiastically, like eager to start working with the hoe himself.

Don Alejandro looked at him as so many times before: somehow perplexed. He shook his head; swished his riding gloves in a circular motion, inviting his son to follow him; and then headed to the main entrance, where Felipe was already waiting with the horses. Diego walked behind his father with a broad grin on his face, glad he could be so irritating on cue.

ZZZ

"A little bit more to your right" instructed Padre Benítez to the Indian helper, but the man misunderstood and moved the heavy beam to the left. "No! No! The other way!" shouted the priest, circling with his hands, but it didn't matter: the Indian didn't seem to understand. Padre Benítez sighed and came closer to the man to help him level the beam.

A few new workers and volunteers had joined the mission from the Indian village, but they were still learning the language. The growing population of Indians leaving their villages to join the Church to live at the missions was the main reason to build this orphanage and school. In recent years, there had been a succession of epidemic episodes among the Indian population, with a large amount of casualties dying from otherwise mild illnesses for Europeans, such as flu, that had resulted in a significant increase of orphans. Padre Benítez and many others, including the De la Vegas, mistakenly thought the California native Indians suffered from weak health, and needed to be helped. The Franciscan Padres tried hard to assimilate them to the white man culture, with a close contact which was detrimental and the cause of the epidemics on the first place.

"Good morning, Padre Benítez" saluted Don Alejandro on arrival, dismounting Dulcinea. "I see that the building works have already started."

"Good morning, Don Alejandro. Diego. Felipe. Yes, we have started. Let me show you the plans. I think your son would be a great addition as a project manager."

Padre Benítez showed them the drawings and the distribution of the basic building, which consisted of three rooms: the school class, the communal bedroom, and the kitchen and dining room. There was a buzzing of activity at the site, with the workers and volunteers carrying large logs, laying the adobe bricks for the foundations, and even raising the first walls. Most of the workers were Indians of the Tongva tribe, called _Gabrieleños_ by the Padres, but some came from other tribes further away. Entire families were involved in the labour, even some small children.

While following the priest around the building site, Diego stopped to look at a young Indian boy who was helping his father. He could not be older than six or seven years, but still, he took his job as a helper very seriously. He was dragging a huge log from a large pile, bringing it closer to his father to build the fence, struggling all the way without asking for help. Determination to carry out the task glowed in his young face. Moved by it, Diego walked behind him and lifted the heavy piece of wood off the ground.

"Let me help you."

"Thank you. Can do myself" answered the boy, confident.

"I know you can," conceded Diego, "but it will be faster this way and you can help even more. Your father won't know what to do with so much wood ready to be used." The boy smiled, with sparkling white teeth contrasting in his dark skin face. Something else sparkled at the same time, catching a ray of sun, glittering in Diego's eyes. It was the boy's hand-made decorated Indian collar, which got Diego's attention. It was made with pieces of carved wood, bones, feathers and coloured mineral stones, with some metal inlays which resembled… "_gold? That's odd"_ thought Diego.

"That's a pretty collar you are wearing" he said, pointing at it. "Can I see it?" As an answer, the boy tried to hide the collar under his Indian tunic, and shook his head. Then he ran away to hide behind his father.

"Diego, come here. We need you to make this angle square," the old don called from a distance. Diego nodded to the boy's father, who was looking at him suspiciously with a serious expression, and left to join Don Alejandro at the other side.

"Padre, what tribe are those Indians building the fence down there? They look different to the others," asked Diego to the priest.

"They are _Serranos. _They volunteered to help us today," answered Padre Benítez while extending the measuring rope straight on the ground. "They live in the San Bernardino area, up in the mountains. Some come regularly to trade in with the other tribes, especially weaved baskets. They are quite good making them."

Diego looked back at the little boy again. Father and son were back at work, but the little Indian looked at Diego with curiosity from time to time, with his beautiful collar still tucked away, out of sight. Shortly after, Diego focused his attention somewhere else, when he saw a certain señorita approaching the site carrying jars of fresh lemonade for the workers.

ZZZ

"A white man has been asking my son about his collar" said the boy's father to the Indian Chief in their own language when they returned to San Bernardino, three days after their encounter with Diego at the mission.

"I told you to keep any hint of gold hidden from the white men. He should remove it immediately" ordered the Chief.

"He loves that collar. His mother made it for him shortly before she died. I don't have the heart to take it away from him."

"You know how the white men think and what they do. For some reason, they love gold too much. They will destroy our sacred mountain to get it, as they destroy everything else. But the gold belongs to Mother Nature, and only She can give us little pieces of her goodness if that's her desire."

"My son is not coming back with me down to the valley, at least not in many moons from now. He won't see any white men for a long time. Please, let him keep the collar in the meantime."

The chief nodded slowly. "As long as no white man can ever see the gold in it."

ZZZZZ


	3. Chapter 3

**Three weeks ago**

Zorro stopped at the abandoned Indian village he had unintentionally ridden into, up in the San Bernardino Mountains. He dismounted Toronado to examine the remains of a bonfire in the middle of the village. The ashes looked recent, with the core still warm, so he concluded the people had left the settlement not long ago. He wondered why they would have left in such a hurry, in the middle of the summer. Diego knew the nomadic customs of the Indians in the area, who would move their camps from the mountains to the valley in the winter, and vice versa in the summer, but that was an unlikely reason for this move, being so out of season.

Since his encounter with the little Indian boy at the building site, Diego had wondered about his secretive attitude and the source of the materials for his collar, and if that yellow piece was really gold. If there was gold in the area, the Indians could learn to mine it efficiently and that would be a huge help for their communities, although the presence of gold could also be a great hazard for the Indians if it attracted a large number of unscrupulous white settlers in search of an easy fortune. Nevertheless, it was pointless to speculate because that little piece could have originated somewhere else, as the Indians usually covered a large area to trade. With nothing else more exciting to do at the moment in Los Angeles, Diego had saddled the black stallion and had made the long trek to San Bernardino as Zorro to have a look at the area.

Zorro mounted back on Toronado and continue his way up the mountain. It was a hot July afternoon and the horse puffed several times, complaining of the heat, slapping the annoying flies away with furious sweeps of his long tail. Close to the abandoned village there was a small river, where they stopped to drink the fresh running water. While cupping his hand to collect some water for the third time, Zorro noticed a little yellow pebble shinning among the others at the river bed. He carefully picked it up between his thumb and index finger and inspected it closely. He smiled, amazed. That looked like gold, indeed.

ZZZ

Luis Ramón, Don Alfonso and Oliver were also at the San Bernardino Mountains, only a couple of miles away from Zorro.

"I have to admit I despise these savages, but I certainly don't approve your methods, Don Alfonso," said the alcalde of Los Angeles. "Is that really necessary?" he asked while watching Don Alfonso's men burn an entire Indian village after they had chased the inhabitants out into the woods by relentlessly firing their guns at them.

"We have to drive away all the Indians from the area so we can claim their land afterwards. Would you prefer if we kill them all instead?" asked Don Alfonso, contemptuous. At least, he had instructed his men to fire over the Indians' heads and not to their bodies unless they were trying to retaliate, and he didn't feel any remorse for these actions. The little voice in his conscience was really quiet, not nagging at all in this occasion.

"Absolutely not. After all, they can become tax-payers someday," pondered the alcalde, ever so greedy.

"Will you help us to get a new land grant?" asked Oliver.

"This land belongs to the Padres at the mission San Gabriel. There is little I can do about that," answered the alcalde.

"Yes, we know that," said Don Alfonso. "However, I would imagine that a man of your position and influence could get a new document, even produce a forged one if it was necessary. The mission system is doom to fail, anyway. Sooner or later all the land will be in the hands of the Dons. You'll see. It is a matter of time. And I want to be the first."

"What would I gain from this?"

"5 per cent of the profits would be to your satisfaction?" asked Don Alfonso.

"Profits from what? Farming?"

"You'll see in due time" said Oliver.

"Let's make it 25," said the alcalde showing his slyest smile, "and you'll have a deal."

ZZZ

A column of dark grey smoke raised above the centenary pines. Zorro saw it from the distance, and headed that way urging Toronado to a fast gallop up the mountain. By the time they got there, the flames had caught in the bushes and vegetation around the Indian village, and the whole area was on fire. Unable to stop it, and fearing for his own safety, Zorro headed back to Los Angeles, wondering who could be behind such atrocity.

He arrived at the pueblo late in the evening, after dusk, and before heading to the Hacienda de la Vega he decided to stop for a drink and the chance of a kiss. Victoria had already closed the tavern for the night and the last clients had left not so long ago. Zorro knew she would be busy at the kitchen tidying up for a while, so he sneaked at the back and waited for her while she cleaned the tables, immobile and inconspicuous against the wall, by the door.

Victoria came back to the kitchen carrying a large load of empty jars and glasses in a wooden tray, and passed by Zorro without noticing him. He stood still as a statue, with a silent smile dancing on his lips. He loved watching her when she went about her routines, busy as a laborious buzzing bee, unaware she was not alone. That night, he enjoyed the way she wiped her sweaty forehead with her naked forearm in the most unladylike manner when she thought nobody was watching; and that stubborn lock of dark hair falling over her eyes while she was washing the dishes, and the little puffs she did trying to blow it away back with the others where it belonged; and the way she sniffed the air several times, which reminded him of a little fluffy rabbit happy to find something to eat, although she didn't looked delighted but disgusted and worried at the same time; and... His special contemplation moment finished abruptly when she suddenly turned around.

"Zorro!" she exclaimed with a little jump, taken by surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought I could smell something burning."

"Sorry, Victoria. I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to see you." He slowly moved away from the wall, closer to her. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Yes, I am, of course, but…" He didn't let her finish, leaning forward to kiss her. She fell helplessly into his tight embrace, her breath taken away. When, out of biological necessity, she breathed again after several long infinite seconds, she suddenly pushed him away. "It is you! You stink of smoke!"

"Do I?" asked Zorro, sniffing his sleeve. "Yes, I do. I was caught in a wild fire in the San Bernardino Mountains this afternoon."

"Are you all right? Did you get hurt?"

"No, I am fine, don't worry. I don't know what happened, but suddenly I was surrounded by flames. I hope it eventually died out, but the vegetation is so dry this season it could have affected a large area."

An impatient soft neigh by the window interrupted then. Zorro laughed.

"That must be Toronado. I promised him it would not take too long to say hello. He must be tired and thirsty. I think I should go now." He loved the disappointed look in Victoria's face.

"If you must… But first, have a drink yourself. It is a long way from San Bernardino to… wherever you are heading now. Here" she said, serving him the remains of the lemonade in the jar. She watched him gulping it down, mesmerized by the little drops which had escape from his lips and were slipping down his neck around his Adam's apple. In her mind, there was only one proper way to wipe that off. If only she would dare... if only.

"Thank you Victoria. Goodbye" he gave her a quick chaste kiss and before she could get the courage to reach those drops of lemonade, he disappeared through the window.

"_Next time. Oh, yes. Next time"_ she promised to herself, dreaming, licking her lips.

ZZZZZ


	4. Chapter 4

**Two weeks ago**

Over the next few days a large amount of Serrano Indians arrived at the mission San Gabriel. The wild fire had spread at San Bernardino affecting two thirds of the land, the most fertile around the settlements, and the Serranos knew they could not survive in those conditions. There was not enough space to shelter them all at the main building, and some of them were sent to Los Angeles to be temporarily accommodated at the newly built orphanage.

The Indians were angry and blamed the violent white men who had so forcibly pushed them away from their villages, and they grew increasingly restless when they realized nothing was going to be done about it, their complaints totally ignored by the authorities.

On the other hand, that sudden increase in the number of Indians in the pueblo had caused concern among the white settlers. Some of them were extremely racist, and expressed their opinions about the Indians rather too loudly.

"There are blooming Indians everywhere!" complained Don Martín at the tavern, bitterly.

"Don't be so harsh. You know their land burned completely on that wild fire. We haven't seen a drop of rain in months. Without the help of the Padres they'll die of hunger. It is not their fault" said Don Alejandro.

"I don't like them. They are thieves, murderers, and vicious filthy people. I hope they go away soon, for good," said Don Manuel.

"They are also motivated, disciplined hard workers. I have seen them at work, and they could be an excellent addition to our farms if we give them a chance," Don Alejandro interceded again.

"They are savages, up to no good," stated Don José.

Irritated, Don Alejandro gave up and moved away from the other dons, to sit at a table with his son.

"Diego, I don't like the situation with the Indians. People are bitter, and they may turn violent," said the old don when he sat down.

"I know. I am worried too." Since he had witnessed the fire last week, Diego had been wondering who was behind it, as he doubted it was due to natural causes. Unable to figure out what was happening, he suspected the presence of gold would be at the centre of it. Besides, the Indians had complained about some mysterious white men who had pushed them away from their villages before the fire started. "But, there is not much we can do at the moment. Let's hope people will get used to them."

"Yes, let's hope so, because if I hear any more senseless racist complaints, I am going to lose my good temper," said Don Alejandro with clenched fists.

"Calm down, Don Alejandro" said Victoria, approaching them with two glasses of orange juice. "People will soon realize the Indians are harmless. No need to worry so much."

"Thank you, Victoria. You are such an optimist" smiled Don Alejandro, taking the glasses. It was quite hot inside the tavern, and Victoria was sweating again.

"It is so hot in here!" she complained. Affectedly, she wiped her forehead with delicate touches with the back of her hand.

Diego couldn't help but laugh when he recalled the other night and how resolutely she had sorted out the same problem back then.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, rather too fast to sound true. Victoria looked at him suspiciously, and she was about to say something when Pilar called her from the counter. Victoria walked away, looking a bit cross.

"What's the matter with her?" asked Don Alejandro.

"I don't know" said Diego innocently, shrugging his shoulders. "Women…"

"Yes, son, as if you knew about them," teased Don Alejandro, tapping Diego's arm.

ZZZ

Don Alfonso was delighted with the situation. The fire at the Indian settlement went out of control through the extremely dry vegetation, and the trio of conspirators and the rest of the men had to abandon the mountains in a rush to avoid being surrounded by the flames. After the initial fear for his own life and the anger at his men's clumsiness, Don Alfonso realized that a scorched barred land could be the perfect excuse he needed to buy it, and he welcomed the mishap. A few days later he was at San Gabriel, offering to buy the land. Thanks to the disaster, he could even make the Padres believe he was a charitable man, rather than a scoundrel.

"But that land belongs to the Church, it is not an asset of the Mission," said Padre Fernández at the San Gabriel Mission. "I don't have the authority to dispose of it so easily."

"Yes, I am aware of that. My offer to buy such a useless plot of land is my humble way to serve of assistance to these poor Indians. You know it will take many years for that land to be fertile again, especially in the draught conditions be are suffering at the moment."

"I can see your point, and I agree, Don Alfonso, but I need to confirm with the Padre Superior if this arrangement is possible. After all, the land grant was given to us by the King of Spain."

"I am sure the Padre Superior is a wise man and will realize this is a golden opportunity to increase the much needed funds for the Mission. Sadly for the Catholic Church, Ecclesiastical confiscation and expropriation of land and properties is a reality in Spain at the moment, which will soon reach California. My offer won't stand for long. If I wait, I may get the same land for next to nothing" he said, extremely calmed.

Padre Fernández didn't like the menace in Don Alfonso's words, but he knew he was right. The government in Spain was expropriating the Church's land all too easily nowadays, and similar laws and edits were probably on their way to the colonies. However, the Padre could sense the overweight don was hiding his real motivations, and dismissed him with the promise he would try his best to accommodate his demands.

ZZZ

The De la Vegas visited the mission to offer their help. The school and orphanage building had been completed just in time to accommodate the newly arrived Serrano Indians, who were packed in the small space, not intended for such large number of adult dwellers.

Diego spotted the little boy in the crowd, and saluted him.

"Hello. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you" answered the boy politely.

"Do you remember me? I helped you the other day to carry the logs," said Diego. The little boy nodded, smiling. "I see you have finished the fence. It looks nice, and strong as well."

"My father good builder" said the boy, swollen with pride.

"Is he also good with crafts? Can he make weaved baskets?"

"Yes. Baskets. Good baskets" said the boy with his radiant smile.

"Can he make collars, like that pretty one you are wearing? I like it. Did he make it for you?" asked Diego, trying too hard to sound casual.

The smile disappeared from the little boy's face when he realized he was still wearing the collar for everybody to see, against the chief's wishes. He quickly hid the precious collar under his tunic once again, then shook his head and ran away, leaving Diego perplexed. The boy had obviously been told to keep the gold out of sight from strangers.

ZZZ

Oliver entered the alcalde's office carrying a small chest. "Alcalde, Don Alfonso has reconsidered his offer. Even a fifth of the profits seems an excessive amount now that he is negotiating to buy the land from the Padres himself. He can offer the contents of this chest if you can provide the deeds any faster."

"Very well. Open it," ordered the alcalde. The small pieces of gold glittered in his greedy eyes when Oliver opened the lid. "Where did he find this? In San Bernardino?"

"Don Alfonso travelled from Mexico to California carrying gold as a better currency rather than money or Mexican Bonds, of course" said Oliver, thinking fast. "He didn't find this anywhere. This is a small part of his personal fortune. The rest is in the bank." Although this was partially true, and in any other circumstances payment in gold would have been acceptable, trying to bribe such a devious person with gold had been an unfortunate mistake in the current situation. The alcalde already looked suspicious.

"Of course" said the alcalde, incredulous. _Gold_. That had to be the reason why the portly don wanted to get hold of the rights for that useless land in San Bernardino. "I think I can help you. Tell him I accept his offer, and I will get a document to prove he is the new owner of that land" said the alcalde, although he had no intention whatsoever to do so.

ZZZ

The citizens of Los Angeles had become increasingly uneasy and resentful with the Indians, and vice versa. Diego feared they would attack violently at the slightest provocation, so he travelled to the pueblo as Zorro to try to calm them down. As he feared, when he arrived to the pueblo there was an angry mob surrounding the church and mission grounds.

"Zorro, please, put a stop to this madness!" begged Padre Benítez, relieved to see the masked man approaching. The priest was standing at the church's entrance, which was closed behind him, keeping all the Indians safe inside. All except one, an unfortunate man who was being abused and jostled around by the aggressive crowd at the plaza.

"People of Los Angeles" called Zorro from Toronado's saddle, while the stallion circled around restlessly, ready for action. "You should learn to live in peace and harmony with the original settlers of this land, the Indians. They have been living here much longer than we have. We should be grateful they let the Padres establish the Missions and the colonies in California a while ago so the white men can all enjoy their haciendas today."

"They are thieves! And murderers!" shouted someone in the crowd, followed by a rumour of approval.

"There are also bandits, thieves and murderers among the whites. And we don't classify ourselves as such, as a whole. You can't blame an entire population for the actions of some of its members. Who is the thief you are talking about? Who is the murderer?" asked Zorro.

"He is!" shouted Don Martín, pushing the Indian forward. He was surrounded by the angry mob, and he looked battered. Zorro recognized him. He was the little boy's father.

"What has he done?"

"He stole my chickens!" said Elías Modrego, a merchant who had a small store at the pueblo, with a little corral at the back.

"I did not" said the Indian. At that moment, the alcalde –who was aware of the abuse at the plaza but had chosen not to intervene– came out of his office to check what had put an end to the commotion. He spotted Zorro in the middle of the crowd.

"Lancers! Come quickly! Zorro is here!" shouted Ramón, going back into his office to get his musket. He reappeared in seconds, followed by a calmed and curious Oliver.

The alcalde aimed at Zorro and, with total disregard for the safety of the crowd, he fired, missing the target. Zorro grabbed the Indian's hand and helped him to climb onto Toronado's back.

"Mind your manners, alcalde" mocked Zorro, saluting with his right hand. He urged Toronado to a frantic gallop, and they disappeared quickly out of sight before the lancers had a chance to get ready to chase them.

"I can't believe it! He escaped again!" shouted Ramón in a foul mood, throwing his musket to the ground.

"You are doing it wrong. Shoot the horse. It is a much bigger target" said Oliver, casually. "That's what I would do."

"The horse! You are right. That would be easier. Not neat, but feasible. Thank you, good advice. I will try that the next time."

"Happy to help" saluted Oliver. They came back into the alcalde's office. "Now, what about the Indians?"

"What about them?"

"We need to do something with them. Stealing those chickens was not enough. If the people of Los Angeles could see the Indians as a real menace, we could use it in our advantage. They could be the ones to drive the savages away for good, not us."

"How do you intent to do that?" asked the alcalde, curious.

"I have a plan. Just give me a bit of time to prepare. I'll let you know when I am ready, because I'll need your help."

ZZZ

The Indian tapped insistently at Zorro's back. "Have to go back. My son at the mission" said the Indian, pointing to the pueblo.

"I can't take you back while the people are so angry. I am going to take you to the Hacienda de la Vega, where you can hide in safety while they calm down. I can go back to the mission to bring your son there with you, if you wish."

"I don't trust white men."

"I am a white man. Do you trust me?"

The Indian nodded, reluctantly. "Yes."

"Diego de la Vega is a good man. You should trust him too, because he will help you. And so will his father, Don Alejandro."

"Don't like white men. Only Padres. Or you. Others are bad, only want to have things and destroy nature. Shot us away from our villages. Then burn our land. Alcalde do nothing" complained the Indian.

"The De la Vegas are different. Give them a chance to prove it."

ZZZ

Don Alejandro was outside watering the geraniums when he spotted Zorro approaching the hacienda.

"Zorro, what are you doing here? Can I help you?" asked Don Alejandro at the hacienda's entrance.

"Yes, Don Alejandro. I wonder if you could shelter this Indian at your hacienda until the people of Los Angeles calm down. They accused him of stealing chickens, but I believe he is innocent" said Zorro, helping the Indian to jump off Toronado.

"Yes, of course, Zorro. We have plenty of space here" said Don Alejandro. "Actually, I offered Padre Benítez to shelter some of the Indians here as they are quite crowded at the mission, but he thought it would be better if they stayed together."

"What's your name?" asked Zorro. The Indian answered in his native language. Zorro and Don Alejandro looked at each other, unable to reproduce the sound.

"Call me…" paused the Indian, thinking of a suitable translation "…_Eagle Eye_."

"Welcome home, Eagle Eye. Come on in," invited Don Alejandro.

"What is your son's name?" The Indian answered again in his language. "Hi…ki…" tried Zorro, attempting to say the name. "Never mind. I'll find him" he said, giving up, and turned Toronado urging him to a gallop back to the Pueblo.

ZZZ

After he delivered the delighted boy at the hacienda, Diego changed his clothes and reappeared at the house, pretending to be unaware of the situation. His unsuspecting father welcomed him warmly.

"Ah, Diego. You are finally here. Come, I have to introduce you to our guests. Eagle Eye, this is my son, Diego. And this is…" he stopped, afraid he would not be able to repeat the name correctly. The little boy helped him out, saying his name loud and clear.

"There, that's his name" laughed the old don, still unable to pronounce it.

"You can call my son _Grasshopper_. That his name in your language" said his father in a cold tone, deeply uncomfortable to find out the praised Diego de la Vega was the man interested in the gold in his son's collar. Not a man he could trust. Not at all.

"Nice to meet you, Eagle Eye. _Buenas tardes_, Grasshopper. How are you?"

"Good, señor. Zorro got me here. I rode Toronado!" he said, excited. Even little Indian boys regarded the masked man as a hero to look up to, an interesting role model.

"Really? How exciting! Zorro was here? Did I miss him again?" asked Diego to his father. _Will he ever realize he has never seen the pair of us together?_ he wondered as so many times before. Someday, maybe. But not today.

"Yes, you did. Zorro rescued Eagle Eye from an angry mob at the pueblo, and brought him here. And then, he went back to collect his son. Where were you all afternoon, Diego?"

"I was at the canyon, collecting some rock samples for my experiment" Diego lied, nonchalantly. "So, you rode on Toronado. Fantastic. You are so lucky. I envy you, young man" the little boy grinned from ear to ear. His father maintained a serious expression, the distrust easy to see on his face. Diego regretted to mention anything related to collecting rocks.

"Thank you for help, Alejandro. We going now," said the Indian, grabbing his son's hand.

"What? But, why?" asked Don Alejandro, perplexed. "I thought you were staying hiding here for a few days."

"We have to go" insisted the Indian.

"If you must… Well, in that case, let me get María to prepare some food for you," offered Don Alejandro, and he headed for the kitchen.

"You don't trust me. I can see that," said Diego after his father left. "But you have nothing to be afraid of. Is the gold in your son's collar what you are worried about?"

The Indian didn't answer, just looked at him with a penetrating gaze, like trying to see into his soul. _"Maybe that's why they called him Eagle Eye_," thought Diego.

"I am worried about the gold in your son's collar too. I am worried some greedy white men can try to get the gold in your land. I think you should learn to mine it yourselves before that happens."

"We don't mine. Gold belongs to Mother Nature. She gives what we need."

"Yes, I know. I guess you collect little pieces from the river. But that could be enough if you get organized. With that money, you could buy protection, and…"

"No need protection" interrupted the Indian.

"Don't you? Someone has already chased you out of your villages and set your land on fire. Are you sure? Even Zorro thought that you needed protection, and he brought you here."

The Indian didn't answer. He continued to look at Diego intently, and walked a few steps around him to look at his back from every angle. It was unnerving, and Diego finally turned around to face him.

"You like black?" said the Indian, at last.

"What?"

"Black. I think you like black" he said, with a hint, lifting his chin up. Diego hesitated for a moment, stiff.

"Yes. I do. Black is my favourite colour" he said, slowly, his eyes still locked with the Indian's.

"Zorro likes black too" said the innocent little boy, happily.

"Yes, he does. What a coincidence" said Diego softly, still looking at the boy's father.

"I see. We stay then," said the Indian when Don Alejandro reappeared with the supplies.

"Do you? What made you change your mind? I thought you wanted to leave. What's going on?" asked the old don. The two men were standing face to face in an awkward position, and he could feel the tension between then.

"Nothing" said Diego, relaxing. "Eagle Eye is worried about the other Indians at the church, but I assured him they will be safe with Padre Benítez."

"That's right, they will. Come on then, I'll show you your room for the night" said Don Alejandro, taking the little boy's hand.

"We'll talk about this later" whispered Diego to the Indian when Don Alejandro left with the boy. "Please don't say anything. My father doesn't know." The Indian nodded in silence, and they followed the others.

ZZZZZ


	5. Chapter 5

**A week ago**

Padre Benítez feared the situation could only get worse and would end tragically for both sides, so at dawn he urged the Indians to abandon the asistencia mission at Los Angeles to go back to the largest Misión de San Gabriel, even if that meant to camp around its perimeter. The Indians were only too glad to move some distance away from the white settlers, who greatly outnumbered them in Los Angeles.

In the afternoon, Don Alfonso and Oliver were at the tavern eating a delicious bowl of _sopa de albóndigas_. From their table, they could see and hear Don Alejandro talking passionately about the virtues of the Indian workers.

"That Alejandro de la Vega is a total nuisance" complained Don Alfonso. "He can't stop talking in favour of the savages. He is an important pillar in this community, and the others are listening to him. Something needs to be done about it."

"Don't worry. I am on it. I will consider your concerns into my plan" said Oliver, mysteriously.

ZZZ

"Mendoza, I want you to gather the lancers to practice your tracking skills today. You will leave the garrison to a destination of your choice about `10 miles away, and the men will track you down half an hour later" ordered Luis Ramón the next day.

"Today, mi alcalde? It is quite hot, maybe we should do that exercise another day. The horses will be tired, and…"

"Mendoza, shut up, and do as you are told! You are going on tracking manoeuvers. Now!"

"Sí, mi alcalde" saluted Mendoza, at attention, kicking his heels.

ZZZ

Diego, Felipe and Victoria were at the tavern door, watching Don Alejandro getting ready to make a speech in the plaza.

"Your father is so passionate. I admire him for that," said Victoria.

"He certainly is," said Diego, with a calm he did not feel. _"As opposed to me. That's what you believe,"_ he thought, quite upset. _How an Indian whom I just have met can realize so easily that I am Zorro, and yet all the people I love the most can be so blind?_

"At least as much as Zorro" continued Victoria with a dreamy smile, oblivious to Diego's feelings, as usual. He looked at her, annoyed, but he didn't have much time to wonder about Victoria's words, because at that moment a large group of lancers left the garrison, diverting his attention.

"Where do you think they are going?" asked Victoria, anxious. "All of them at once? I hope they are not going to track Zorro down."

"I have no idea where they are going, but I don't think that will be the case, don't worry. Corporal, where are you heading?" asked Diego to Sepúlveda when he trotted nearby on his horse.

"On manoeuvres, Don Diego" answered the soldier, downhearted. "And in this heat. Can you imagine? We'll melt out there!"

Diego thought it was very odd to leave the pueblo defenceless without the soldiers' presence, especially with the Indian situation, but he didn't say anything. With no time to go home to change his clothes and reappear as Zorro, he decided to stay alert. Something was about to happen, he was sure of that. And the alcalde knew about it.

ZZZ

Oliver arrived at the pueblo dressed with an Indian outfit, quietly and undetected. He climbed to the roof and walked slowly to a position where he could easily look at the whole plaza. Then, he crouched down to lie on the hot tiles, and placed the bow he was carrying by his side.

People were gathering around. Oliver scanned the crowd in the plaza, looking for his target. There he was, addressing some citizens, ranting and complaining about the alcalde and the rampant racism at the pueblo. People were listening, and they hung on his every word. Don Alfonso was right: that man was a great nuisance, who should be neutralized as soon as possible.

He selected an arrow from the case at his back, grabbed the bow, and quickly got on his knees. Aiming carefully, with the arrow head pointing at the victim's chest, he slowly pulled back the bowstring to its fullest extent. Then, Oliver held his breath for a second and released the arrow, which whizzed toward its target. However, it never reached it, because moving surprisingly fast a tall caballero leaned forward at the last moment, pushing the old don out of harm's way. The arrow hit his left shoulder instead of Don Alejandro's chest.

With the impact, the tall caballero fell to the ground on his back. The crowd gasped but didn't react, disbelieving at the sight of an Indian arrow, until someone spotted Oliver on the roof.

"Look! There's an Indian there, on the roof! He's got a bow! Run for your lives!"

Chaos followed. Everybody tried to run away from the plaza, screaming in terror, getting in each other's way. Only Don Alejandro, Felipe and Victoria stayed put, helping Diego up.

Looking at the small group in the plaza, Oliver hesitated with another arrow in his hand, annoyed because he had hit the wrong De la Vega. In the confusion, before he could make up his mind about shooting again, the concerned group acted quickly and efficiently, dragging the injured caballero into the tavern for shelter.

Giving up, as his purpose to create confusion and terror had been fulfilled anyway, Oliver ran over the roof tiles toward the end of the row. Confident in the knowledge that the lancers would not shoot him, as they were nowhere to be seen, he jumped on his bareback pinto horse, and galloped away. On his way out, he added more drama by howling wildly, with his bow held high, as a fearsome Indian warrior would do.

ZZZ

"Oh, my God! Diego, you've been shot!" A bright red stain was quickly spreading over Diego's white shirt. Don Alejandro instinctively reached for the arrow, and tried to pull it out, but Diego held his wrist to stop him.

"No, father. Leave it there. Don't touch it" he grunted. "Help me to get up. We need to get out of here."

"Into the tavern, quick!" shouted Victoria, leading the way. Around them, people ran in a frenzy, screaming panic-stricken, as if thousands of Indian arrows were already whizzing over their heads. Some of them were also trying to get shelter in the tavern, and the petite owner had to push them in to make way for her injured friend.

Don Alejandro and Felipe helped Diego up. Supporting him on their shoulders, they dragged him into the tavern as fast as they could. The pressure on the injured left side, where the arrow was shaking at every step, was torture for Diego. He groaned and complained all the way in.

After they helped the stumbling Diego to reach one of the empty rooms upstairs, Don Alejandro sent Felipe to get the doctor. "Be careful! Watch out for any other Indians" he advised. Felipe nodded and rushed downstairs recklessly, jumping the steps three at a time.

"Hold on, son, you'll be all right. The arrow only hit your shoulder. Why would an Indian shoot you? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Actually, father, he didn't shoot _me_. He shot _you_" mumbled Diego. He sat on the bed, at the edge, and started unbuttoning his shirt. His father was right: the arrow had only hit the shoulder, not the chest. But, still, it hurt so much, he wanted to cry out. "I saw him in the roof, ready to shoot. That's why I pushed you."

"Me? Are you sure? Why me?"

"Why would an Indian shoot Don Alejandro? He is the one who is always trying to help them" reasoned Victoria, looking at her friend with great concern. Diego, with a rather shaky hand, was struggling with his buttons. He looked so pathetic with that huge arrow sticking out, so pale and miserable with the pain, that something stirred in her and she felt the urge to comfort and nurse him, as she would do to a helpless baby. "Let me help you with that." She held his trembling hand gently, pushing it away slightly, and smiled at him as if nothing was wrong. He stared at her with what should have been just gratitude in his eyes, but the look had such intensity that it made her uncomfortable. She looked down and concentrated on the buttons. When she had finished with them, she tried to remove the expensive shirt but she realized it was not possible, because it was pinned in place by the arrow. "I am going to get a pair of scissors. Sorry, I am afraid I will need to cut your shirt." She sounded genuinely apologetic, with a tone in her voice that made Diego chuckle awkwardly.

"Victoria, don't worry about the shirt. I'll manage without it" said Diego in his painful misery, shaking his head slightly. "_Funny, the kind of thing women worry about in a crisis." _

Victoria flushed red. There was her best friend, seriously injured, and she was worried about a stupid shirt that wasn't even hers. She left the room quickly, ashamed of herself. On the way to hers, she wondered about the look in Diego's eyes. Was it love what she had seen? Was he in love with her? She shook her head. "_No, that's not possible. He is like a brother to me, my friend. I would have known. It must be the shock, he is not thinking straight_." She came back shortly after and approached the injured man, avoiding his eyes this time, focusing on the scissors and cutting the cloth. He shivered when she touched his chest under the shirt. In all honesty, even Diego didn't know if it was due to the pain or the unexpected and exciting contact with Victoria's soft skin.

Just when she had finished cutting the shirt, the doctor arrived. For decorum, Victoria removed only the left side, leaving the rest to partially cover Diego's chest and back. She was quite impressed by the prominent muscles on display. Her eyes were irresistibly dragged to them. _"I never would have thought… How can he be so strong if he is all the time reading? He must be doing something special, something he found on his books. No doubt about it. He always says that "_everything_" is on the books."_

The doctor approached Diego and straight away he started to poke around the wound, even probing and shaking the arrow, making him groan with pain again. "Don Diego, I can feel the arrow end in your back, deep under the skin" said doctor Hernández. "Rather than pulling it, the best way to remove the arrow will be pushing it out through your back, with a hard blow. Either way, it is going to hurt" he warned.

"Do what you need to do, doctor" answered Diego weakly, biting his lower lip under his moustache. Watching him suffering made Victoria's nursing instincts flare up again, so she gently held his right hand; a gesture which was quite comforting for Diego. Although, not quite enough to put a smile on his face. In any other circumstances the contact would have been absolutely lovely and he would have been ecstatic, but, not this time.

"All right. First, I need to saw the shaft" said the doctor, producing the appropriate instrument from his bag. "Hold on. This arrow is way too long. It is going to move quite a lot while I cut it." He instructed Felipe to hold onto the shaft as close as possible to Diego's shoulder, and positioned Don Alejandro behind his son to support his back straight. Victoria, by his side, continued to hold Diego's right hand, reassuringly, whispering words of encouragement to her friend.

"You'll be fine, Diego, don't worry. We are all here with you" she said, stroking his arm gently.

He replied with a grimace that resembled a smile. She was _caressing_ his arm! Maybe Diego should get injured more often. He sighed deeply. _"I'd rather be alone with you somewhere else, querida."_

"Ready?" asked the doctor. Diego nodded, uncertain. "There we go." He started to saw the wooden shaft, with slow and precise movements to avoid splinting, aiming for a clean straight cut. Closing his eyes, Diego clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to scream. Despite Felipe's efforts to hold it still, the arrow head was shaking inside Diego's shoulder quite badly. At least, having Victoria so close, helped him to be brave and quiet, just for her.

Suddenly, amidst the cloud of pain, he realized his hand was clutching at Victoria's way too tightly. When the doctor had nearly finished cutting the arrow, Diego opened his eyes. He quickly let go of Victoria's hand, ashamed and distressed when he saw her upset expression. Her beautiful face was pale and distorted in a painful grimace, looking at him with wide open, frightened eyes.

"I am sorry, Victoria. I am _so_ sorry… I…I didn't realize… Are you all right?" he asked, in dismay. Victoria bit her lower lip so hard it turned white, obviously trying to be brave herself, for him, and she nodded silently, ignoring the sharp pain in her floppy hand. However, despite her determination, revealing tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her checks.

"Done!" said the doctor, discarding the severed arrow shaft on the floor. "Are you all right, Victoria?" he asked, when he saw her expression. She looked like about to faint.

"No, she is not! I think I broke her hand, doctor. Please, have a look at her" begged Diego.

Doctor Hernández caught Victoria's limp body just in time when she passed out. Unsteadily, Diego stood up, allowing the doctor to place Victoria on the bed. His own pain was forgotten for a moment.

"Diego! What have you done? What were you thinking?" scolded Don Alejandro.

"Not now, father, please. Is she all right?" asked Diego with a high pitch tone, the intense guilt narrowing his throat. Doctor Hernández examined Victoria's hand for a few seconds. When he had finished, he looked at Diego with reproach in his eyes, just as Don Alejandro was doing.

"I think you are right. I think it's broken. How tight were you holding it?"

"I don't know… I didn't mean to… Oh, God" he sobbed softly, covering his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to harm Victoria. He would have preferred to die right then instead. With his strength failing, he sat down at the edge of the bed again, shaking.

"I should have warned you. The next time grab a towel, or something soft, no need to crush a señorita's hand for moral support" said the doctor in a light tone trying to lift the mood, feeling sorry for Diego, who looked devastated. After all, the injury inflicted wasn't too serious, although quite painful, and she should heal without problems. Doctor Hernández manipulated Victoria's hand, repositioning the fragile bones, and applied a supporting bandage with wooden splints. He considered to get the smelling salts, but decided against it. "I'll let her wake up on her own time. Removing the arrow is not going to be a pleasant sight. Are you ready, Diego?" he asked, placing his hand gently on his right shoulder. "It will take less than five seconds." Diego sighed deeply and nodded, sitting upright, supported again by his father.

Doctor Hernández approached his patient with a wooden mallet in his right hand. Holding the now short arrow shaft with his left hand, he practiced the movement a few times, in slow motion. "At the count of three. Take a deep breath. One… Two… Three!"

The loud scream that followed woke Victoria up. She sat upright, screaming loudly herself, mad with fear and pain. When she saw the doctor pulling out the bloody arrow from Diego's back, just a few inches from her face, she slowly slumped back on the bed, fainting again at the sight of so much blood. Don Alejandro held his son's limp heavy frame for a moment, while the doctor applied some dressings and a sling, but he eventually let him slip down in bed too, next to Victoria.

It was the first time the couple lie down so close in bed together. Such a shame they were both unconscious and could not enjoy such special moment.

ZZZ

Diego woke up in his bed at the hacienda de la Vega.

"Diego, are you all right?" asked Don Alejandro, quite anxious, leaning forward from the chair beside the bed when he realized his son was awake.

"Yes" said Diego, blinking. He tried to sit up, and cried in pain. "No, I am not. It hurts."

"You have been unconscious for a few hours. Here, drink some bark infusion" he offered, bringing a glass close to his son's lips.

"How is Victoria?" asked Diego after he drank a few long swigs.

"She is fine, don't worry. She is here. She'll stay at the hacienda for a few days until she feels better to go back to the tavern."

"I am so ashamed. I didn't realize I was holding her so tightly" said Diego, grief stricken.

Don Alejandro tapped his son's hand softly. "Don't worry son, she knows you didn't mean to hurt her. She will be fine. I'll call her now so you can apologize yourself" said Don Alejandro, and he left the room. Victoria came inside shortly after, and sat down in the chair next to the bed, where Don Alejandro was sitting before. She looked a bit pale, but she smiled at Diego warmly.

"Diego, how are you? We were so worried about you."

"Victoria, I am so sorry. Forgive me. I didn't mean to harm you. I didn't realize I was crushing your hand. Are you all right? Does it hurt?" he asked, distressed.

"Don't worry, Diego. I'll be all right" she said, showing him her bandaged injured hand. "Doctor Hernández did a good job to splint it. It hurts a little, but I'll be fine. I am more worried about you. If that arrow had hit you a few inches lower down, it could have struck your heart."

"I guess I was lucky. What happened afterwards, in the pueblo?"

"I don't know. Everybody panicked, and we left in the carriage to come here. Anything could have happened." Diego tried to sit up again, but once more he groaned in pain. "Eagle Eye prepared an herbal infusion for me. It worked very well for the pain. I'll bring you some."

"Thank you, Victoria" said Diego. When she left, he rested back on his pillow with a frustrated long sigh. How unfortunate he had been injured right now, when Zorro was needed the most.

ZZZ

"I need to find out if that man at the roof was a real Indian" said Diego to Felipe at the first chance he had, when they were alone at the library the next day. He already felt better to move around, and preferred to sit there rather than staying in bed all day. "He was very skilled with the bow, but I don't think he was Indian."

"_Would this help?"_ signed Felipe. With a broad proud smile, he produced the end of the arrow, the piece that doctor Hernández had discarded on the floor at the tavern.

"Felipe, where did you get that?" Felipe explained with a few gestures, glad to see the excitement in Diego's face. "Well done, Felipe. I thought that arrow end was lost forever." He examined carefully the long feathers at the end. "We need Eagle Eye. He can tell us if this is a _Tongva_ arrow, or from another tribe in this territory." Felipe looked at him with a big question on his eyes, surprised. "Yes, I haven't had the chance to tell you. Eagle Eye knows who I am." Felipe shook his head incredulous, and then signed: _"how?"_

"I don't know. He is a very perceptive man. He only needed a few minutes by my side to realize. Which makes me wonder how blind is everybody else around me. Please, call him now."

ZZZ

"Not us. Not Tongva. Don't know. Feathers too long" said Eagle Eye, shaking his head. He gave the arrow back to Diego.

"Are you sure this is not an arrow used by any of the tribes from around here?"

"Yes. Not us. From the North and rising sun, maybe. Beyond the large canyon."

"Do you mean the Colorado canyon?"

"Don't know how you call canyon. Far away. Very large canyon. Different people there. Maybe arrow theirs."

"Thank you, Eagle Eye. I have to find out what happened, who that man was, and why he wanted to kill my father."

"I go back to Mission, ask the chief. Maybe he knows. Boy stays here, safe."

"Yes, do that. Grasshopper will be all right here. Take care, be careful."

After the Indian left, Diego kept thinking while twisting the arrow shaft slowly between his fingers. According to Eagle Eye that was indeed an Indian arrow, but not from California, maybe from far away, from the North American tribes. Very odd to find such an arrow here. And why did that Indian from the North try to kill his father? And what about the gold, and what was the role of the Alcalde into this conundrum? He didn't get to any conclusions, other than injured or not, Zorro was needed to pay a visit to the alcalde's office to find out, as soon as he had recovered enough to do so.

ZZZZZ


	6. Chapter 6

**Today**

Toronado rolled over and sat on his hind quarters. Blood was oozing from the gunshot wound in his chest, but the injury was not too serious: the ball had passed through his powerful pectoral muscles, coming out on the other side without damaging the lungs. The mighty horse pulled himself up with a violent fast move, and stood in the plaza puffing and snorting. Despite the pain, he stumped on the ground fiercely, creating a small cloud of dust around him. He was furious and angry, showing the white of his eyes while searching for his aggressor, intent on retaliation.

Melting under the blazing sun, Zorro sat up on the ground, with his unsheathed shiny sword reflecting the sun's rays. He blinked several times trying to clear his blurred vision. He was dehydrated, and also felt dizzy after hitting his head in the hard dry soil. At least, it was a great relief to see the black stallion back on his feet, looking so defiant.

Victoria, frantic, stepped out of the tavern determined to help Zorro, but the soldiers were getting closer surrounding him, and she could not get through. "Zorro! Watch out!" she shouted, waiving her uninjured hand.

Zorro was greatly outnumbered. He stood up slowly and unsteadily, with the intention to fight, but he felt quite hopeless. He could not see how to get away this time.

Luckily, Toronado came to assist his injured master. He cantered around him, pushing the soldiers out of the way, kicking and bolting like a wild horse. Scared of that crazy black fury, the lancers cowardly backed away from Zorro.

In the confusion, Ramón took a chance and reached for the small chest. Toronado immediately recognized the alcalde as the man who had shot him. Enraged, the horse charged with his ears pointing back, flat on his head, and bit Ramón's right arm viciously. He dragged the alcalde a few meters across the plaza, away from the chest. Then, with a powerful shake of his head, he sent him flying into the fountain, where Ramón landed with a big splash. Toronado came back quickly; grabbed one of the small trunk's handles with his teeth; stood close to his master, who climbed up to the saddle with some difficulty; and he galloped away as fast as he could, back to the Hacienda de la Vega.

ZZZ

"Slow down, my friend. You can't drink so much water at once, because the last thing you need now is to suffer from colic," said Zorro, pushing Toronado away from the drinking trough. The poor horse was desperate to drink gallons, and he complained with a few snorts while shaking his head. However, he trusted his master, and he waited patiently until he'd be allowed to reach the fresh water again. Zorro had a quick glance at the stallion's wounds, and he was relieved because they didn't look too bad. "Felipe, help me to untack him. We need to cool him down."

Once that Felipe got the saddle off, they threw buckets of cold water all over the horse. His black coat was so hot that some of the water evaporated immediately, creating misty fumes that came out of him swirling in the hot air, with an audible sizzle.

"We may be suffering from heat stroke, Felipe. I don't feel well at all" said Diego while removing Zorro's hat and mask. He pulled the alcalde's document from under his shirt and left it safely on the table, before throwing a bucket of water over himself. His head was throbbing now with the heat exhaustion and dehydration. Despite feeling slightly nauseous, he drank some water in small sips. "We need to drink small amounts quite often. Please, don't let Toronado drink a whole bucket at once, and keep cooling him down. And me, too," he instructed, lying down on the cold floor. At least, down in the cave, the temperature was a few degrees lower than outside. "Can you clean his wounds too, please? He should be fine; it is a flesh wound through the muscles, and the musket ball is out."

Diego had to close his eyes for a moment, because the ceiling was spinning too fast. Startled, he opened them again when Felipe, following orders, threw another bucket of water to his face. Chocking and coughing, he spat some water to his side. He wanted to complain, but, when he saw Felipe's anxious expression, Diego had to smile.

"Thanks, I guess..."

ZZZ

Luis Ramón was on a bad shape that evening. The left side of his face around his jaw was purple and swollen, but the worst damage was on his arm. It had acquired a dark black tinge where the crazy vindictive horse had bitten it, and he could still see the teeth marks denting on the flesh. While Toronado dragged him away across the plaza, and just seconds before he landed on the fountain, the alcalde had thought for a moment the horse was going to tear his arm out.

He revised the pile of papers, fearing which one would be the missing item. His suspicions were correct: the forged deed for the San Bernardino land was missing. Impulsively, he stumped his fist on the desk. The force of that hard blow travelled up his arm, exploding in the damaged area above the elbow, and he screamed in pain and frustration.

"MENDOZAAAAAA!" he called. After a while, the sergeant came into the office. His broken nose was not bleeding anymore, but the whole area was swollen with a black haematoma which extended under his eyes. His nose resembled a small aubergine.

"Sí, mi Alcalde?" said Mendoza with an aberrant nasal voice.

"It is _your_ fault all this is happening!" accused the alcalde. "If you weren't so incompetent… so unable to carry out the most simple of tasks… then I would not have felt the compelling need to come across the street to get you, and Zorro would have never been able to break into my office!" Mendoza blinked, surprised. He was used to be the scapegoat of the alcalde's tantrums, but this one was huge. Ramón was out of his mind, completely irrational. In his fury, his face was red and his green eyes bulged like about to pop out. "It is _your_ fault that crazy horse nearly pulled my arm out! I didn't have the time to aim correctly and kill him because I stumbled on _you _at the door!"

"But… mi alcalde… that's not fair" hesitated Mendoza, gulping. "Zorro has got into your office many times before, when you were there, and you've never been able to stop him…" he babbled with his odd nasal voice.

"Shut up!" shouted the alcalde, but the sergeant was stating the obvious: he could not have stopped Zorro, no matter what. Zorro always got away. And this time, he'd got away with the document and the chest.

ZZZZZ

_**Author's notes:** did you really think I was going to kill Toronado? Nooooo, never! :D I have been checking the stats in ff and I have readers from all over the world. Where are you hiding? Why don't you review? If you have the time, it would be nice to hearing from you as a review or PM. You can't realize how needy writers are about reviews until you become one, LOL. _

_I have been posting one chapter daily so far, but now real life will get me again, and still have to finish the story, so I don't know when I'll post again. Sorry. Quite soon, hopefully. I may surprise myself and have it all sorted by tomorrow. ;)_


	7. Chapter 7

**The following morning**

"That darn Zorro managed to escape with the chest. He's got the gold now!" said Don Alfonso, fretting about the situation, wiping his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief. It was only early morning, but it was already quite hot in Los Angeles. "Where were you yesterday?"

Oliver looked at him with his unemotional face, inexpressive. "Away" he said, as if that was enough information.

"What are we going to do about it? He is already defending the Indians, like that blooming De la Vega. And he may even have seen the new deed from the alcalde, I don't know. Sure he must suspect something. I don't want to face him. Do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You are usually quite good to use your imagination. My father trusted you so much."

"Yes, he did. That's why I told him the gossip about the Indian gold. Shame he passed away before he could see it." "_If he had not opened his mouth just before he died,_ _I would never have told you. Not in a million years"_, he thought.

"Kill him, if you can, before he finds out what we are up to."

"How? The alcalde has been trying for so long to get him. He has failed every time, including yesterday."

"I don't know how! As I said, use your imagination, for Christ sake! You always come up with something" shouted Don Alfonso, leaving the room slamming the door.

Right then, the only idea that came to Oliver's mind was to kill the annoying, demanding, overweight and sweaty don, and disappear with the rest of the gold.

ZZZ

The day before, Diego rested in the cool cave until the evening. Then, he came upstairs and went to bed complaining to his father about his dreadful headache. For the first time in his life, he didn't have to pretend he felt as if his forehead was constantly being hit by a mallet, because that was precisely the feeling he had. Felipe provided a generous amount of bark infusion, and in the end, Diego had managed to fall into a deep sleep, exhausted.

"You all right?"

Diego opened his eyes in the morning, blinking with the glare of light coming through the window, to find the worried face of _Grasshopper_ looking down at him.

"Ah… Yes, I think so. I guess I needed to sleep," he said, sitting up. "A lot, by the looks of it. What time is it?" The little boy shrugged his shoulders.

"Morning. Sun is up."

Felipe entered Diego's room apologizing for the boy's intrusion. According to his signs, he had told the little boy to leave Diego alone. When he had finished his explanations, he also asked: _"Are you all right?"_

"Yes, Felipe, I am all right, don't worry" said Diego, getting out of bed slowly, like an old arthritic man would do. His whole body ached, specially the injured shoulder. "Kind of all right, at least. I am so stiff this morning."

"I know good herbs for pain. For muscles. Want me get some for you?" asked the little boy, eager to help.

"That's very kind of you, Grasshopper. Thank you very much" said Diego, stretching his back and shoulders carefully. "But don't wander out too far away from the hacienda. Your father should be back today." The boy smiled, nodding, and left the room nearly running.

"How's Toronado?" asked Diego. Felipe signed: _"All right, but moody."_

"Is he?" laughed Diego, standing up. "Let's have a look at him."

ZZZ

Oliver walked slowly across the plaza, looking at the trodden ground intently. It was difficult to read anything after so many people and horses had walked over it that morning, but he thought he could still identify the hoof prints of a horse running irregularly in circles. These prints, according to the description of the events the day before, should be Toronado's. He walked carefully in circles himself outside of the pueblo following all the paths until he found a similar set of prints, which belonged to a powerful horse with a long stride, which could be the black stallion. Those prints showed a certain asymmetry, suggesting the horse was lame, so he followed that trail out into the country side. Eventually, he found himself in the De la Vega's land, close to their hacienda, where the trail disappeared on a dead end.

Oliver dismounted and inspected the ground. The hoof prints walked to an earth wall, into the vegetation. There were lots of prints going in and out from there.

"Hello. What are you doing? Looking for herbs, like me?" said a child's sweet voice behind him. Oliver turned around to face a little Indian boy, who looked at him with a friendly frank smile.

"Yes. Yes, herbs. Some nice ones over there," he said in a friendly nice way, pointing to the concealed cave entrance. "And what are you doing here on your own?"

"Looking for herbs for Diego. He needs them today" said the little boy, approaching Oliver to look at the bushes close to the earth wall.

"Diego de la Vega? I know him. He is my friend. What's wrong with him?" _Other than I shot him with an arrow last week, of course. _

"He not well last night. Headache. Sleep all morning." He looked at the bushes quickly. He was disappointed, as nothing interesting grew in there. "You said good herbs here," he complained.

"I lied" said Oliver, showing a vicious smile and menacing tone. Panicking with fear, Grasshopper tried to run away from him, but Oliver tackled him down to the ground. On his belly, the Indian boy wriggled and struggled to escape from under his attacker, but Oliver mercilessly slammed the child's forehead to the ground, rendering him unconscious. He effortlessly lifted the little limp body onto his horse, and galloped away with him.

ZZZ

Toronado puffed and snorted bobbing his head, happy to see his master, who patted his muscular neck loudly a few times. Diego talked to the horse lovingly and reassuringly.

"Hello, boy. How are you? Giving Felipe some trouble? Let me have a look at your wounds." He checked the injured area in his chest, satisfied to see Felipe had done a superb job to clean the wounds, as usual. "You'll be back to normal in no time at all. Then you can kick the alcalde's arse. Would you like to do that, my friend?" The horse nodded vigorously, neighing. "Of course you would. I knew that. Next time, then" said Diego, laughing. He moved away from the horse and walked to his desk. "Where is the chest? Did you open it?" Felipe pointed at it, shaking his head.

"I didn't have enough time to find the key; the alcalde came back to his office so fast he surprised me. I hope it contains something to help me find out what's going on" said Diego, tampering with the chest's lock. "The document I got its really juicy: a deed for the Indian land of San Bernardino with the alcalde's name and signature on it. Obviously forged." He used a stiff thick wire, wriggling it inside the key hole until he managed to get it open. Diego smiled. "I never would have thought… gold! And what do we have here?" he said, grabbing a piece of paper from the bottom, under the gold pieces. It is some kind of an invoice: _"In payment for your services," _signed by Don Alfonso Lozano.

_"What services?"_ signed Felipe.

"I don't know. But if that chubby Don is involved, that means that creepy companion of his, the one who seem to be best friends with the alcalde lately, is involved as well."

At that moment, the little bells that were part of a rudimentary alarm system started shaking, tinkling merrily above their heads. They were connected through thin threads to the entrance of the cave. When they rang like that, it meant someone was shaking the bushes covering the entrance, and there was a risk for it being discovered.

Diego and Felipe rushed to the entrance, but when they got there, they couldn't see anybody through the spy hole on the concealed door.

"It's all right. Maybe it was a wild animal rummaging on the bushes" said Diego. They came back to the main room in the cave. "So, Don Alfonso Lozano. What do we make of that?" wondered Diego.

ZZZ

"Look what I got" said Oliver on arrival at the Lozano Hacienda.

"An Indian boy! What are you going to do with him?" asked Don Alfonso.

"I don't know yet, but sure I can think of something" said Oliver, unceremoniously dropping the still unconscious boy on the floor.

"Where did you find him? I thought all the Indians were back at the San Gabriel Mission."

"Yes, they are. This stray one was looking for herbs near the Hacienda de la Vega, for Diego, who apparently suffered a bad headache last night and is not feeling well this morning."

"So?"

"Wait for it. I came to the plaza to search for Zorro's black stallion's hoof prints. I found some, and followed a trail that took me close to the hacienda de la Vega, where they disappeared."

"And?" asked Don Alfonso, not connecting the dots. Oliver puffed in frustration. _"Do I have to think for you, as well?"_

"And… I think Diego de la Vega _may _be Zorro."

"What? That pompous nerd? Don't be ridiculous. If you'd said his father is Zorro, even at his age, I still could have believed it, but… Diego? No way. He is such a wimp," dismissed Don Alfonso, shaking his head.

"Precisely. He may be faking it. For a wimp, he moved pretty fast when I shot his father, to push him out of the way. I wasn't there yesterday, but please, think about it. Did Zorro show any signs of being in pain? Like in his shoulder, maybe?" The portly don stopped to think for a moment, biting his fingernail.

"Now that you say so, he didn't look his usual agile self. He was quite slow, and… Oh, yes. He was holding the chest in an awkward way, as if it was too heavy."

"What else? Think!" demanded Oliver.

"When he was on the ground, after the horse was shot down, he didn't stand up from a sitting position using his arms… Yes, I thought that was odd. He got on his knees first, like an old man would do."

"See? I told you. He must be Zorro. He can't use his left arm so well now," said Oliver, with a sinister delighted smile.

"What do we do now? Go to the pueblo, and tell the alcalde?" asked Don Alfonso, excited.

"Yes."

"What about the boy?"

"We'll take him with us. Diego will try to find him; we can use him as bait."

ZZZZZ


	8. Chapter 8

**The following afternoon**

"Where is Grasshopper? He should be back by now," asked Diego. Felipe shrugged his shoulders. "Have a look in the house and outside. I'll come out at the back and look around the fields. Maybe it was him shaking the bushes before."

Diego got out of the cave through the passage hidden door. Immediately, he realized something was wrong. He could see two sets of prints on the ground, one with small feet, and signs of struggling. The most worrying sign was the precious collar of the Indian boy, which he found broken and discarded on the ground. Diego examined the prints, and concluded someone had forcibly taken the boy for a ride in a horse. He clenched his right fist in anger, and came back to the cave to change into Zorro's cloths, even if he didn't feel well enough for it. And Toronado would struggle too with his injuries, but there was no other way. Zorro had to ride.

ZZZ

Victoria was on her way to the Hacienda de la Vega. Don Alejandro had been at the pueblo earlier on, and had told her about Diego not feeling very well. It was quiet at the tavern, so she had got on her horse to visit him and cheer him up with a lemon tart. Her broken hand was still quite painful, but she could manage to ride her gentle horse quite well with the reins in one hand only. It was a beautiful sunny summer morning, although quite hot already, and she thought she could do with some exercise as well.

ZZZ

Zorro followed the trail of fresh hoof prints left by the kidnapper. He wasn't completely surprised when he realized they led to the Hacienda Lozano. Rather than heading straight there, he made Toronado climb to the top of a nearby hill to look at the property from above. The black stallion was limping, with his lacerated pectoral muscles resented every stride. The wounds were bleeding again, but he marched forward uphill, bravely ignoring the pain. From the top, Zorro spotted two riders on the plain, far away in the distance, heading to the pueblo. He squinted, using his hand above his eyes to deflect the sun glare. He wasn't sure, but one of the riders could be carrying something in front of him. Maybe his little Indian friend; maybe not. But he was quite sure one of the riders was Don Alfonso, due to his unmistakable round, large shape.

"I am sorry boy, but we need to run quite fast if we want to get them before they reach the pueblo," said Zorro, patting the horse's neck. "Can you do that?" The black stallion neighed and shook his head up and down like saying _"yes",_ determined. "Come on then. Go get them, boy!" Toronado neighed loudly again, and started a frantic run, galloping downhill as fast as he could.

ZZZ

Oliver looked at his companion, annoyed. Don Alfonso was puffing and grunting, complaining on the effort of a sustained gallop. After a while, with laboured breathing, he slowed down his horse to a gentle canter, and then a slow trot. Oliver slowed down his horse as well, until the red-faced don caught up with him.

"What are you doing? I thought you wanted to get to the pueblo as soon as possible."

"Well, nobody is chasing us. And I don't think Zorro would even realize that he needs to chase us, probably not yet," he said, out of breath. "I am tired, and my horse is tired. Half an hour more to get there won't make a great difference."

"Maybe to you. I am holding the boy, here, and he may wake up at any time," complained Oliver. "Hurry up, will you?" But the overweight don ignored him, and continued his way to the pueblo at a leisurely pace.

They carried on marching slowly for a while, until Oliver had the odd feeling of hearing hooves behind them. He turned around to see a black horse with a black clad rider approaching fast.

"_Mierda!_ That's Zorro behind us! I told you to hurry up!" shouted Oliver, urging his horse to a fast gallop. Don Alfonso followed him, cursing too, hardly able to stay on the saddle at that speed.

Sitting in front of his kidnapper's saddle, Grasshopper had regained consciousness, but Oliver hadn't noticed it. He was holding the boy by his waist with his right hand, while he held both reins on the left. Otherwise, the boy wasn't restrained, and his hands were free. He looked back over his kidnapper's arm, and saw Zorro approaching quite fast, but not enough to catch up with them. Then, taking Oliver by surprise, the boy suddenly grabbed both reins and pulled back with all his strength. The horse neighed loudly in pain, complaining, and he lifted his head back to avoid such sharp pain and pressure in his mouth. As a result, the horse lost his balance and fell to the ground. The two riders also fell, flying into the bushes at the side of the road, rolling over them.

The boy stood up first, covered in superficial scratches but otherwise unharmed, and ran away to hide on the nearby wood close to the road. Oliver took a bit longer to recover from the fall. Ignoring the kid, he ran to the horse to get his favourite weapons from the saddle: his Indian bow, and the arrow case, which he hanged on his back. The horse had damaged one of his front legs badly, probably fracturing it, and was useless for riding.

When Zorro was close enough, he slowed down Toronado and jumped off the saddle before he had stopped completely.

"Go find the boy!" he said, slapping his rear end. The horse limped away towards the wood, snorting and foaming all over the bit after the strenuous effort, glad it was over.

ZZZ

Don Alfonso was a coward. He had always been one, the same as he had always been fat. That was one of the reasons by his own father didn't like him much. When Don Alfonso was twenty-five, his father came back from a long journey to the North, and brought back with him Oliver, whom he legally adopted shortly after. Don Alfonso equally hated and feared Oliver, his new brother, who was a complex, dangerous young man, although immensely loyal to his adoptive father. He had told his father about a place in the mountains in California where gold could be found easily, and he invested a large amount of time trying to find it. When Oliver finally found the gold, his father died of pneumonia, and he never got to see it.

The horse was running as fast as he could away from Zorro, to reach the security of the pueblo. Don Alfonso didn't think much about leaving Oliver behind, secretly hoping he would be killed. His heart was racing with all the fear and the intense exercise, and it suddenly gave up when its clogged cardiac arteries shut down. Don Alfonso felt an intense pain in his chest and became out of breath. He fell off the horse, suffering a heart attack at the side of the road.

ZZZ

On her way to the Hacienda de la Vega, Victoria saw a rider coming fast from the opposite direction. She recognized him easily: it was the unmistakable large shape of Don Alfonso. She wondered why he could be in such a hurry, punishing his poor horse like that. When she saw him falling off the horse, she urged her own ride to a faster gallop to reach him.

"Don Alfonso, are you alright?" she asked, kneeling by his side. He certainly didn't look right. His face was extremely pale, with cyanotic purple lips, and he was completely out of breath, gasping for air.

"Zo…rro…" he managed to whisper.

"Zorro? What about Zorro?" Don Alfonso could not speak, no matter how frantically Victoria would shake him. "What about Zorro? What happened?"

When he passed away to never wake up again, she mounted back on her horse and galloped fast in the direction the rider had come from, anxious about her lover.

ZZZ

Oliver looked at the black clad figure in front of him. Fast as lighting, he reached for an arrow in the case at his back and quickly pointed to the masked man's chest, shooting it at great speed. Zorro –also unbelievably fast– had drawn his sword at the same time, and effortlessly deflected the arrow to his left while smiling smugly. Oliver reached for another arrow, and then another, and another… He continued shooting non-stop until his case was empty. The result was always the same: Zorro deflected all the arrows with ease, and none reached its target, no matter which body part it was aimed at. Open mouthed, Oliver could not believe it, and he stayed rooted to the spot while Zorro advanced with his sword up and ready, menacingly.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you involved in this dirty business?" asked Zorro.

"What do you care?" was Oliver's reply, tensing his neck to move his head a couple of inches away from the sword pointing at it.

"I do care about anything that threatens innocent people. How do you know how to use a bow, and where did you learn to make these arrows? They are different to the ones the native Indians use in California. I guess they are from the North."

"Yes, they are. I learned with the Cheyenne Indians. It's a long story."

Zorro smiled widely and despite the pain opened his left arm with flair, while pressing the tip of his sword on the stranger's chest. "I love stories! And we have plenty of time. Nobody will bother us."

ZZZ

From the distance, Victoria saw Zorro standing in front of Oliver, who was shooting arrows at great speed at him. Thankfully, her beloved was so skilful with the sword he deflected them all away. She still had a large distance to cover, but she slowed down a bit when she saw Zorro holding his enemy at sword point. She didn't want to get on the way and risk jeopardizing whatever Zorro was up to with her presence. She would not interfere as long as he was winning.

ZZZ

Oliver hesitated for a moment. But finally, he shouted: "I hate Indians! They killed my parents and then kidnapped me when I was a baby. I was raised as a Cheyenne warrior, until I discovered the truth. Nothing gives me more pleasure than helping to track Indians, and kill them if I can!"

"Who told you that? It doesn't make sense that they kept you alive and taught you like one of their own."

"Don Alfonso's father told me. He rescued me when I was seventeen, and made me realize how different I was from them. He became a father figure to me."

"Still doesn't make sense."

"I know it is true. What I never got to know is why the Indians kept me alive. I think they were short of frontline warriors. They trained me well for that role."

"How did you know there is gold in San Bernardino?" pressed Zorro.

"There was some gossip in the Indian community, a legend about a place in the South where you could find gold by the river quite easily. But, it was sacred and not to be touched."

"Exactly. And that's what is going to happen. It won't be touched. It belongs to them." Oliver laughed.

"You can't stop it. It will happen. Too many people know about the gold already."

"How many people?" Oliver didn't answer, so Zorro pressed a bit with his sword in his chest. "How many?"

"Enough. I don't know exactly how many. It doesn't matter. All the Indians will die soon, and we'll get the gold. I hate them. I wish them all death."

"You are a sick man." Zorro lowered his weapon slowly, pitying the deeply disturbed man in front of him.

Oliver walked a couple of steps back, away from Zorro. "And you are stupid," he said, quickly drawing a loaded gun from behind his back. "Don't move… Diego de la Vega."

ZZZ

Victoria panicked when she saw Zorro in danger. She urged her horse to a fast gallop again, heading straight to the trouble. She had taken a bullet for Zorro before, and she could do it again if it was necessary.

ZZZ

Before Zorro could react to the menace, shocked by Oliver's words as he was, an arrow came whizzing by. It passed by Zorro nearly scratching his right arm, and got lodged into Oliver's chest, right in his heart. He fell backwards, firing the gun when he clenched his fists in a reflex. The bullet, missing Zorro's head by an inch, hit Zorro's hat, which flew away to fall rolling on the ground behind him. Oliver died instantly.

"Had to be done. No other way," said Eagle Eye, coming out of the bushes behind Zorro, with a bow in his right hand. He approached Oliver's dead body to remove the arrow off his chest while Zorro looked at him with his jaw dropped. Eagle Eye turned to face him with the arrow in his hand, which was dripping fresh blood from its sharp end to the ground. The Indian didn't show any kind of emotional remorse or joy of revenge for his actions; his eyes were cool as ice. "Had to protect our land. And _you_. Better this way. He deserved to die." Diego nodded slowly, wondering how much easier his own life would be if he could manage to be as practical about killing as the Indian was.

"How did you find us? Is your son alright?" The Indian nodded, with a serious expression.

"Had dream last night. Crow told me come home this way today, not shorter way."

"What?"

"I knew had to be here today." Zorro looked at him, puzzled. But he didn't have time to think about it because Victoria arrived at the scene. Zorro was so busy fighting for his life, that he hadn't even seen her approaching on her horse.

"Zorro! Are you alright? I saw that man shooting at you! I was so worried," she said, jumping of her horse to run into his arms.

"Victoria! What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way to visit Diego. He is not very well. Are you sure you are alright?" she asked again, still shaken. Zorro was delighted to know she was worried about _him_ and was making the effort to come for a visit, even if Diego was the one who had broken her hand.

"Yes, don't worry. Everything is fine" he said, hugging Victoria tightly, caressing her back. But the cuddling moment didn't last too long, when Zorro realized Don Alfonso had escaped, and probably also knew his identity. He gently pushed Victoria away. "I am sorry, Victoria, I have to go. Have to get to Don Alfonso before he reaches Los Angeles."

"Don Alfonso? You can't. He is dead," said Victoria.

"Dead? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I saw him falling from his horse. I think he had a heart attack. He was purple, and couldn't breathe." Zorro felt so relieved at her words that he had to kiss her, impulsively.

"You look happy that he is dead," she said, frowning.

"Yes. No. Not really. Almost," he mumbled. Victoria looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't make any sense."

"It's a long story. Oliver and Don Alfonso kidnapped Eagle Eye's son; I don't know with what purpose. They are the ones responsible for the fire at the Indian land. Oliver is the one who shot m…. Diego." At that moment, he wished he could kick himself. But Victoria didn't notice the lapse.

"He shot Diego? With the arrow? Why?"

"I don't know. And we will never know, as both are dead now. I think you should continue your way, Victoria. Give my regards to Diego. Eagle Eye can escort you to the Hacienda de la Vega, so you can have a _smooth_ journey." The Indian nodded, with a hint of a smile. He knew what he had to do: to stall Victoria so Zorro could go back home before she did. They could take the "scenic" route.

Zorro whistle loudly. Toronado came out of the woods with a little delighted rider on the saddle. When they got close to the group, Grasshopper leaned out to hug his father, and jumped down of the horse, hanging from eagle Eye's neck.

"There. I think this is yours" said Zorro, handing over the collar to the boy. He grabbed it anxiously and started to sob in his father's arms, releasing all the accumulated fear and tension he had suffered. Eagle Eye talked to him gently in his native language, hugging him tightly, and the boy smiled back again, looking at the collar with his head resting on his father's shoulder.

ZZZ

Victoria sat in one of the armchairs at the library, telling Diego all about Zorro's adventures. Diego was so exhausted with all the action that morning, that he didn't have any trouble to pretend he was still sick. He welcomed the chance to rest in the other armchair, close to her. He was listening to her, but filtering her voice because all that chatter about Zorro was getting on his nerves. In his head, he managed to quiet down her real voice until the only thing he could hear coming from her lips was a fainted: _"I love you… Diego."_ But the spell was broken with her next set of annoying and deeply hurting words.

"That horrible man could have hit Zorro with one of his arrows as well. Can you imagine? Zorro would not have been able to save the day if he was injured like you are." Diego looked down at his own hands in frustration, fighting the urge to clench them in a tight fist, and he nearly screamed. He managed to control himself and sighed deeply instead, before he spoke slowly, dragging his words to a whisper.

"No, he wouldn't." He took the parcel off Victoria's hands, willing to change the subject. "What have you got there? Is it for me?" he asked, unwrapping it. "Lemon tart! My favourite. Thanks, Victoria."

He tried to relax and enjoy the moment, but his work wasn't done yet. Zorro would have to ride one more time that night. "_Yes, Victoria. _Diego_ is injured, but still going. How you like me now!?"_

ZZZ

***** Author's notes *****

Sorry for the totally out of place and historical context _"How you like me now!?"_ but I couldn't help it. I even hear the song in my head every time I read these words. I hope you are all laughing with me. If I was Diego, I could smash the lemon tart on her face. :D (Of course, feel free to complain about this, it you must. More reviews! Yay!)


	9. Chapter 9

**The conclusion**

"Tell me, alcalde. Are Don Alfonso's men aware of the gold in the Indian territory?" Zorro asked, aiming with his sword to the alcalde's throat.

"No. They don't know anything. Don Alfonso said it was a secret; he didn't tell me anything about it, either," answered Luis Ramón, agitated, trying to get away from the sword unsuccessfully. Zorro had caught him by surprise at his quarters, where he was reading at candle light in his bed, materializing out of nowhere from the distant shadows of the room.

"In that case, as Don Alfonso and Oliver are dead, you are the only person left alive besides the Indians who knows about the gold in San Bernardino," said Zorro with a hard menacing tone, increasing the pressure on the alcalde's throat with the tip of his sword. Ramón looked at Zorro with wild frightened eyes, and swallowed hard in fear. A drop of blood slid down his neck, staining red the collar of his new white nightshirt.

Zorro held the fake deed for the land with Ramón's signature in his left hand, and waved it in the alcalde's face. "Nice try. I would have loved to see the outcome of that deception with your friends. What a shame we'll never know what Oliver would have done to you on discovering this," said Zorro, setting the paper on fire on the candle's flame. When it was nearly consumed, he submerged the remains in the glass of water close to the candle, on the bedside table. "I don't think it should be necessary to explain you that if you want to continue to be the only person of that trio still alive, you should forget about the existence of that gold. Do I make myself clear?" The alcalde tried to nod, but the sword cut a bit deeper into his skin. He stopped moving, with his head held back, afraid he could slice his throat open all by himself. "Do you understand?" asked Zorro again, waiting for a clear answer from him.

"Yes! Yes, I understand. No gold. I mean _what gold_? Never heard of it…" Zorro relaxed his arm just a fraction. "Put that away from me!" demanded the alcalde. Zorro did that, but he pulled the sword off just a couple of inches only.

"I'll be watching you. Any suspicious behaviour; any news of gold in the territory; any complains I received from the Indians… and I'll be back to finish you off for good. You have been warned, alcalde," said Zorro, stepping back to swish his sword away from the alcalde's neck to carve a neat "Z" on his nightshirt, over his heart. He wished his words had sounded credible, because he still didn't feel able to carry out that menace, in the same way Eagle Eye would do without a second thought. "You have my word, and I have yours." As fast as he had appeared, Zorro disappeared again into the darkness, without a trace.

"Toronado sends his regards!" a fainted voice came from outside, followed by the distinctive noise of hooves at full gallop.

Ramón sighed, relieved, and cleared his throat when Zorro left, shaking his head. He frowned looking at his nightshirt, holding the newly _"Z-ed"_ piece of cloth between his hands, and cursed loudly. Then he smiled, showing his most evil grin. _"That's what you think. I will keep the gold a secret, for now, but at the first opportunity I get, with any excuse, I will travel to the Devil's Fortress to get hold of the original land grant for that territory. And while I am there, I will try to get the De la Vega's land grant too. Why not? What a fantastic idea! You will not stop me, Zorro."_

ZZZ

That night, the alcalde didn't know he would be dead in less than a month, only seconds after he'd found out Zorro's secret identity. As a result of that tragic dead, the sacred Indian Gold in San Bernardino continued to be undisturbed for nearly 200 years more.

ZZZZZZZZZ

**Fin**

***** Author's notes *****

Yes, in the end I managed to kill them all so the Indians and the gold could be safe, at least for a while. :D

I hope you enjoyed the story. And thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews. Much appreciated.

For the "silent" readers out there: if this story has touched you in any way, please let me know. Always nice to know what the readers think.


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